


Lost at Home

by Bates



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Cockles Week, Fluff, Grieve, Kid!Fic, M/M, Mentions of Blood, Minor Character Death Mention, alternative universe, author!Misha, single father Jensen, that happened about twelve years prior, unbeta'd for now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-30
Updated: 2015-05-30
Packaged: 2018-04-01 23:24:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4038568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bates/pseuds/Bates
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the prompt; Cockles AU where Jensen is a widower whose young son is aware that his father is lonely but is avoiding relationships for the sake of the son (whatever the reasons). Misha is a well known columnist whose articles Jensen reads every day. In the end, Jensen and Misha falls in love and it’s 2 and a half men AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost at Home

_The bed's too still,_

_Where you lay your head._

_You open up your eyes_

_As the sun begins to set._  


James – Jay - Ackles knew from an early age that his father was lonely. He’d spend a day playing at a friend’s place and smile, laugh. The day would draw to a close with them sitting outside in the sun, sipping their orange juice and the mother or father of his playmate would call to tell that a car had pulled up or that his father had arrived. When his father came to pick him up, he’d always have this weird look in his eyes when their parents saw them out or brought him to the door. Jay, as his father always called him, was sad each night when it happened and he’d come in the room while he pretended to be asleep, to sit in the corner and watch him.

            Only when he turned eight did he really understand what his father missed. Uncle Jared – it has been his nick name ever since James had learned how to speak – asked him if something bothered him at dinner that night and he well, he caved. He told him how he wondered why his father always looked like that when he and auntie Gen kissed or were too affectionate around him.

            Uncle Jared told him that his father felt lonely because he had no one. That especially at Christmas, he was alone. Alone, even though he had James. That he missed mommy or a daddy for him. James had been more baffled about the daddy part – had his father been in love with a man before? – than the fact that he missed a spouse.

            At age fifteen, James had a plan and he wasn’t going to fail. His father had been alone too long on god knows whose account it was. He should be happy and content, not sitting on his ass reading corny colums about the most random things and actually _adoring_ them.

 

 

Jensen closed the morning paper with a sigh, nearly knocking over his cup of coffee in the process. Even after a few years of waking up with James, Jensen still hadn’t gotten a hang of waking up in the mornings. Especially not now Jay was a teenager and wouldn’t get out of bed even if Jensen bribed him.

            It was the weekend though – Saturday to be precise – and the kid deserved to sleep in and get the break. God knew that he had been up until at least midnight each night, trying to keep up with school work. It paid off, he got good grades, but it also worried him. If he was already working this hard now, what would he do in a few years? When the work load would only get more and more?

            For now, Jensen allowed him to take the little break and sleep in. Finals were almost over anyway. Just one more. He couldn’t help but imagine how proud Danneel must have been to see him like this; how proud she would be when she saw Jay’s scores, how much work he was doing. He could imagine her kissing the top of Jay’s head when he’d fallen asleep behind his school books and shake her head.

            Jensen still remembered her all too clearly. How her face lit up when she held Jay in her arms that cold December night, just minutes after he was born. She was still bleeding, bleeding so incredibly much and it petrified him, but she just took her boy in her arms, smiled down at him and kissed the top of his head.

            She pulled through and they stopped the bleeding. Dan, she was weak for a few days, but she got better, smiled more and got her colour back. If anything, the incident made him appreciate her more, made him love her more.

            “Dad? You okay?” Jensen hadn’t realized that he had drifted off until James took the half crumpled paper out of his hands and put it on the side.

            “Yeah. I’m fine. One more to go?” Jensen looked up from his coffee, into his son’s tired face. The bags under his eyes were clear and hell, did the boy need a shower, but he was already looking a little bit happier.

            “Yeah, one. I’m going to go over to uncle Jared’s to study with Thomas, is that okay?”

            “Sure. Go ahead. Are you eating over there later or coming back?”

            “I’ll let you know. But I think that he said to stay over for an early lunch, they were having a barbeque or something like that. You know uncle Jared, he'll probably call you to come over.”

            “Probably,” Jensen shook his head, a smile on his lips. “Now, you get going I don’t want to stop you from studying. Have fun, okay?”

 

 

It didn’t take Thomas long to open the door of the Padalecki house, a smile on his lips. They had started plan get my dad a partner a little while ago, after Jay caught his father reading that stupid column, again. His father really needed to take that step, try to at least find love of some sorts again.

            “I'm doing the right thing with this, right? I'm not messing up big time?”

            “Don't worry about that, I think your father needs it, regardless of what he thinks he needs,” aunt Gen said, slight smile on her lips. “He's been alone for too long, hasn't he?”

            “Yeah. It's not like his ridiculous columns are going to help him at all either.” The comment earned him a smack at the back of the head.

            “They mean a lot to your father,” Genevieve said, shaking her head. “It helped him through losing your mom.” She thought for a while before shaking her head. “You never really knew him the way he was when he lost your mother; you were here too often. He was a complete wreck. We owe that Collins guy for helping him pull through.”

            “I know, but, aunt Genevieve, it's been almost twelve years.” Jay didn’t mean to sound so bitter about it, but he was. As weird as it may be for him, he wanted to see his father happy, to see his father move on. Finally. “I’m not saying that he can’t be. Just. Dad’s not happy.”

            “Yeah, I know. It's been a while. Just don't be too hard on him, okay? And you two study first! If you mess up your last exam, your father is going to kill me for not making sure you study.”

 

 

Misha sighed, eyes rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. There should be a health warning on jobs, especially at twelve PM when you’ve only had three hours of sleep and the words dance against your eyelids. Sometimes, he really wondered why he’d actually pursued his dreams and went for the job, instead of just going with it and study law or something, as he had originally planned on doing. It would be so much easier. Maybe if he had done that, he would actually catch some sleep every once in a while. For some people, the weekend meant relaxing, for him, it meant working on his columns for the next week so that he’d have a little bit more time to spend on himself.

            He still liked the job, loved reading the emails that got through to him about what he had written and how he had been able to help him out. Usually, his columns didn’t feature heavy subjects; he highlighted charities, spoke of social problems, did things like that. He almost always put some humour in them, regardless of how rough the subject might be.

            Every once in a while, he’d talk about the more serious subjects in more dept, like queer representation or queerphobia. While he never spoke about personal encounters with the problems he wrote about, he did have them. Misha didn’t write the columns for him in any way, they weren’t there to help him get through things in his past, nor was he there to educate people. He just needed to get it out there.

            Just two more emails to go through and then he’d be actually caught up for a change. Perhaps he could take Sunday off. His weekends were usually filled with writing, but maybe, just maybe – knock on wood -  he would actually be able to relax and catch up with the family.

            He’d forgotten when he’d last hugged his mother or went over to Sasha’s to have a talk. A few days? A few weeks? He couldn’t really remember. Misha had _probably_ send his brother an email about the Christmas preparations and which gift they’d get their mother.

            He checked his outbox for the email – yes he had send Sasha his idea for the Christmas present and where he’d get it – and put the other email in its’ folder. _One more email._ Thank the lord.

            Of course, the last email of the bunch had to be one of those heavy hearted emails that actually required him to think about his reply. He decided that it could wait just one more day – he’d reply in the morning.

 

 

Jensen’s dreams were troubled. They had always been there in the back of his mind after the accident that took his wife away from him, almost took Jay too. They were there but usually didn’t surface that often. Only when he’d had a rough day or the day was special, they popped up.

            The preparations for Christmas always seemed to get to him the worst, they always seemed to be the worst for him. Danneel always prepared the stockings, planned out the dinners, knew who to invite and when to invite them. Did Joshua and Mackenzie already have plans or were they free to come by? What about Donna and Alan, his parents? Were they free to drop by or would they prefer it if they went to their house for Christmas?

            Jay and he usually went to the Padalecki’s for Christmas, the tradition having started almost twelve years ago now. There were years that he’d only been there for a few hours, too tired and strung up to stay for much longer. James would be offered the possibility of staying and – after Jared’s three billion variations ‘ _if you want to stay, stay! You know Thomas loves it when you’re around_ ’ he would stay.

            Jensen wasn’t entirely sure if he did it to give him some space or what, but he was thankful regardless. Being alone usually helped him cope better, when he couldn’t look at his son with weary in his eyes. James looked so much like Danneel that it took him aback sometimes. How he could smile and his eyes would light up, how he’d roll his eyes at him the way that Dan had done.

            It hurt, remembering her. With the years, the pain lessened and dulled. It was nothing but this lingering in the back of his mind, his memories revisiting the place where Danneel used to be over and over again.

 

 

_Misha Collins_

_You don’t know us, but I wanted to share this with you. Twelve years ago, my father lost my mother in an accident. I don’t remember a lot about her, I was only three when she passed. I don’t quite remember anything if I am honest. They think the car crash took away the memories. Because of the fact that I was so young, they aren’t sure._

_Not from first experience at least. My father tells me about her, but that is all I know, the only mother that I know._

_He started reading your columns after she died. According to Genevieve - my father's best friend - it’s one of the only reasons he is still alive and I still have at a least one of my parents. She overacted in all likelihood, but still. Thing is, my father is lonely. He lost my mother twelve years ago and ever since, he has been alone. After twelve years, even I expected my father to have attempted to move on.  But he didn't and truth be told, I know that he wants to, I know that he longs for a partner._

_What I wrote to you for, and I don't even know why I decided to talk to you, is that I... I want my father to be happy again, to smile and actually mean it instead of putting on a show for me and uncle Jared. The only thing is, I don't know how. How do you tell your thirty-three year old father that it is okay to live his life again? He never had that childhood, had a child when he was barely eighteen years old and figuring out what the hell life was supposed to be._

_Mom and he always did their best to help me grow up in the best of ways. My dad was twenty-one when became a single father. He never complained, didn't say that he missed going out, never mentioned the need to go out and date. Hell, my father, he doesn’t even drink except when he thinks that I don't see it, on days that make anniversaries for him and my mom. He's the best father that I could with for._

_Mister Collins, do you think you could help me talk to my father? Or in general, help me out here?_

_Love,_

_James Ackles_

**_ _ **

 

Misha attempted an eloquent answer to the boy, not entirely sure if he hit his mark on what he wanted to say. He had attempted something and send the email, asking the boy to keep him updated on how his father reacted to it.

            He ended up drafting two separate emails before sending the second, finally happy with it. The sun was already up in the sky, reflection in the snow that covered the roads and slowly turned into ice. The snow had fallen two or three days ago, but so far hadn’t appeared to be too bad. There were no car accidents that had been called in (at least not in his family and they were bloody reckless drives) and the schools still hosted their exams.

            Sasha called him around dinner, to ask what he was planning to do for New Year’s and if he wanted to go ahead and come over to his house. Smiling, he agreed, saying that he would love that.

            Even though this meant that he had last time to finish the first chapter to his book, it would be nice to see his brother again and actually _talk_ to him instead of emailing him. Misha had no idea where the inspiration to the book had come from, but was thankful for it. Ever since finishing his last manuscript, he’d been a bit lost in between writing for the paper and his free time. Before, he’d had the writing of his book or figuring out of the characters that he could do. Now, he almost felt like there was this gaping hole of _nothing_.

            And then inspiration had come aknocking and he’d started drafting without really thinking about it. It was kind of nice.

 

 

James didn’t actually talk to his father until after Christmas. He did shoot a message to the author, thanking him for answering his question so quickly. If only he build up the courage to go talk to his father that quickly.

            He tried to so many times, stopped halfway through his first sentence because it wasn’t the time, it wasn’t the time to ask a question like that. And yes, perhaps it wasn’t. His father was in a bad spell as it was, Danneels memories always there instead of being tucked away in the back of his mind.

            And then Christmas rolled around and his father had actually looked happy and cheerful for a change. James just couldn’t bring it up then. School was coming closer, his short break coming to a close.

            “Hey, dad, can I talk to you?” he asked one morning, his father sitting at the kitchen table with bags under his eyes, cup of coffee clasped and his paper in front of him, open on the column.

            “Yeah, sure, what’s up?”

            “I’m sorry if this is rude, but why don’t you ever date?” His father almost choked on his sip.

            “Wha –“

            “I just. I. You always seem so lonely but you don’t ever date. I want to –“ He fell silent, remembering Misha’s words. “I’d _like to_ know why you don’t date. Why you don’t try to, get a life again. Love again.” He felt like he was just spewing words recycled from old romance novels, but it was the only way that he knew how to bring into words how he felt.

            His father just _stared_ at him. “Where is this coming from?”

            “Just – uncle Jared talked to me a while ago and it kept nagging me. Dad, you never. I sound like a girl – but you should move on from mom dad. She’d want you to.” He fell silent, letting the words trail on. “Mom isn’t coming back and dad, you’ve been alone for twelve years now. You deserve to be happy.”

            “Yeah – you’re right. Don’t worry about your old man okay?” His father shook his head. “I’ll be fine. We’re fine just like this, aren’t we bud? I don’t need a… partner.” His father seemed to fall silent on that and sighed, rubbing his hand across his face. “Talking about Uncle Jared – he wanted to know if you want to join him on his New Year’s trip.” His father sucked at subtlety sometimes.

            “Sure. I’ll let him know – Thomas and I were planning on going to that party at Maison’s – you remember?” He took the hint though. “Dad, if you ever decide. Just go with it. Trust me. I don’t need to be babied.” And with that, he was out, giving his father the time to let his words sink in or well, at least not attempt to kill him, which was a real possibility with the look he had thrown him.

            He _hadn’t_ told his father about the party at Maison’s for the precise reason that he didn’t like his son going out and partying. Not entirely because of the partying. His father had done that too and had gone too far a few times, or a least that was what he admitted to, but one of the previous times he’d gotten a bit drunk and crashed at uncle Jared’s without telling his father. _Hell_ had come raining down afterwards, when he still wasn’t home at seven am and had seventeen missed calls.

            The aftermath of his hangover had been _unpleasant_. Unpleasant being an understatement. His father had forced him to help clean the house and if he hadn’t been as hungover, James was sure he would have been the one to clean the roof from leaves as well.

 

 

Jensen didn’t know what he was even doing at the event. James had dragged him along, almost forced him to take the drive with him. The entire time, he’d been bouncing in his seat while telling his father how to drive. After a half an hour, the first posters of the meet up came into view. Brightly coloured with _Book-a-conv_ in big lettering across them.

            It looked nice, it wasn’t that. He just had absolutely no idea why James of all people was dragging him out there. It was no secret that his son wasn’t the one that would pick up a book and read for his own amusement.

            “Run the reason we are going to this thing again?” Jensen asked, amused at his son’s nervousness. “Except for the cover that it’s for my birthday – which is in three months?”

            “You’ll see! Turn right here and then follow the road for a minute. We’re almost there.”

            “Okay.”

 

After another five minutes, they walked through the doors of the event, the smell of books and ink fresh in the air. Jensen instantly loved it, the grin on his lips widening when he saw a sign with ‘ _free books’_ and authors he faintly recognized.

            “I have absolutely no idea why you dragged me here,” Jensen said, turning to his son, “but whatever it is you want, you can have it. Just ask.”

            “Well, gee, thanks dad. Guess it’s time to go to that tattoo after all. Just kidding dad – you go roam and collect. I’m gonna fetch myself a coke. I’ll look for you in an hour or so. Go have fun.”

 

If his father had a clue about who he was going to meet, he’d be a bundle of nerves. When Misha Collins had send him the invitation to come and say hi to him, maybe bring his dad. He’d just gotten a book published and would be there to sign and talk to some people. They were free to come say hi, hang out with him.

            He’d start his signing in a few minutes, but was already seated at his table, talking to one of the employees at the event. James only had to go locate his father in the mess of book loving people and drag him back to the table.

            That was if he could pry his father away from the booth he was looking at, flipping through one of the advanced reader copies they were offering. He already had two books and a book bag slung across his arm.

            It was probably the happiest that he had seen his father in a long time and it felt nice. James had to pry, but he eventually got his father away from the books and to the signing boots. There were a few people walking around, but nothing too major. Thank god for that, because he had no idea if he would actually tell the guy if there were too many people behind them in line.

            Misha smiled at them, a warm grin on his face as he took them in and his father passed him the book.

            “Who do you want me to sign it for?” he asked.

            “Jensen,” he said, “the name’s Jensen.” Misha looked up at that, marker halfway to the title page, questioning look in his eyes.

            “And you are James?” he asked with a smile, looking from Jensen to James. “Yes. I’m glad you could make it!” Jensen threw him a questioning look. He winked at Jensen before writing a little bit and signing his book. “Come back later, when there’s less people. It was nice seeing you in real life, Jensen! You two have fun!”

 

Jensen looked at his son with question in his eyes, but kept silent. At least until they were seated in the lobby with a cup of coffee and a coke.

            “You’ll talk, I’ll listen,” he simply said and waited for his son to finally start talking. When James told him, he was baffled and surprised, before embarrassed. The kid had wanted to do good, but write an email to Misha of all people? _Misha_ who he probably couldn’t meet eye to eye anymore.

            “He was cool about it dad!” James said, grabbing his book from the bag. He looked in it, a smile stretching across his lips before closing it again. “He _is_ cool about it.”

 

 

 

Only after Jensen’s conversation with Misha did they go back home. James was kind of annoyed with his father for not having opened his book yet, but he would probably do it at home. Maybe that would be better.

            If he had seen what Misha had written for him, he probably wouldn’t have talked to him after his signing session. The smile on his father’s lips when he had come back from his talk had so been worth it.

 

Jensen only opened Misha’s book when he crawled into bed, curious about what he had written but too lazy to actually check later. His mind was still reeling from the talk that they had had, Misha explaining how he got where he was coming from, about having divorced himself and having half custody over their kid. Talking about how touched he had been by James’s email about his father, how it had been sweet of him.

            Jensen had mainly stammered, almost star struck, but he hadn’t made a fool of himself – he hoped. He opened the book, a cup of tea next to him on the night stand, and _froze_ at the writing.

            _Your son didn’t do you justice. Care to hang out some time?_ He had added his number at the bottom of the page in smaller writing with a wink next to it.

            Jensen didn’t know what made him send him a text or why his heart jumped when he got the reply almost within a minute. But hell, this was… different, new. He hadn’t realized just how much he missed this.

            _I’m in town tomorrow. How about Georgia Teas, 5pm?_

            Jensen smiled while replying and putting the phone next to him. He owed James, _big time_.

 

**Author's Note:**

> As always, you can find me on [Tumblr](http://achillecas.tumblr.com) and [LJ](http://youaregonecas.livejournal.com).


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